By an ancient palace
knaves and jesters
peddle gilded notes
for dark favours
with docile dames
in the shadow light
of a silvan clearing
deep beyond mortal gazing
amid the frosted gaiety
of wintertide sparkle.
An abdominal snowman’s state of mind
fixated on an eldritch view of summer.
Hoarfrost made him catch a craving
for something called Jolly-tinseltoes.
Fixated on an eldritch view of summer
even as his brumal eyes flashed gelid,
he melted at the mention of sunshine.
Hoarfrost made him catch a craving,
side effect of being a valetudinary.
Like a Seer he could taste this treat.
For something called Jolly-tinseltoes
chocolate ice cream with a berry twist,
the world was slush in eternal wintertide.
Yay! Some cold at last, and even a dusting of snow.
We moved back into the dorm—braving knife-like breezes—yesterday.
It was bracing and heroic - do I want it to warm up?
That’s a hard no.
let’s wax poetic..
Think not of winter as bleak
wrap your steely bones warmly, wear a cap
—for gelid wintertide can bind us together.
Midwinter is the time o' the year to be warm hearted,
to find a companion, a creature fair, a lass (or a manly man)
and suggest a more temperate snuggle— it can do no harm to try.
Think not of winter as bleak
make sweet use of flattery, and face cold’s embrace
likewise, cheek to cheek, with a warming and open heart.
.
.
Snowbird by Rani Arbo & Daisy Mayhem
We'll Sing In the Sunshine by Thornbirds
Conifer, fruit tree's arms once did flow
laden with hued blossom, now gesture
to weight of lace ornamental snow.
Wintertide touch mystique blithe spirit.
Discordant weighty clouds draw down low
before night expire in dank vesture.
Chimney above winter render blow.
Piquant smoke distends languidly slow.
Bracing fire in manor of Esture.
Winter's breath chills even clannish crow.
Wintertide touch mystique blithe spirit.
2/19/2019
whimsical windswept whiteness
wedding weekend wanderlust
willowy wonderland waltz
wrongfully weathered woe
wintry wishful whispers
wrestling woodland wintertide
welcome waxen wallflower
weeping wheezy widow
whimpering wholeheartedly
wrangling worthless worries
wanton wretched wrongdoing
wedged within wickedness
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Jack Frost, Old Man Winter
hibernation not allowed
a camouflage of mask
and cloak, a guise that is
only window dressing
as I wander through
my wintertide.
This season in my
life passes at a crawl
naked branches lost love
of a granddaughter I
will never see much less
stroke or snuggle, through
my wintertide.
I’m detached from her
by blizzards of space
and estrangement
that haunts me, plaguing and
sanctioning my love
for this innocent, through
my wintertide.
When will I see her again?
How long can this winter
last, these are questions
that chill me to the
bone, frosting my heart
which will never make it though
my wintertide.
the silence of the night is stirred by strong pulses
from the north that cut across the moonlit ocean
the waters shimmer and gleam like gold, as nature
begins her perpetual motion,
an increased volume of sound greets the land with the
hooting of an owl fading away into the hills replaced
by the breath of mother natures icy chills
in a lonely dwelling in a distant field the mice
they scurry across the beams to rest to the safety
of their straw clad nests
fir trees in a forest glade bow down and quiver as
the majestic force of life rises across streams and
rivers
down through the valleys, the villages and towns
the windsong continues until at last, the silence of
the night abounds, snowflakes are falling without a
sound....
mikeymo {Subject to copyright}
mike monahan
listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn color
announce
autumn is here.
touch,
the echoes
of the rain
that waters
and blossoms spring.
taste,
uncut
the snow shapes
the crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
see,
the sand sculptures
that paint
that rekindle
a childhood summer past.
smell,
the seasonal airs
stimulates the senses
and the memories they carry.
in the glee,
in the hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
the magnificent
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
the melody
of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Maurice Yvonne
Any Old Poem Will Do - Contest
For Skat A
Entered: August 29 2014
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.